Your fingers are even now as stiff as a schoolgirl’s. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. It creaked slightly. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. ” “I don’t know. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear.
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